


The Cunning Plan

by allyjuice



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cunning Plan, Dinner, House Elves, M/M, awkward social occasions, cheese and pineapple on a stick, meet the parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 21:09:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7907719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyjuice/pseuds/allyjuice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in 2003, pre-Order of the Phoenix: A/U diverging from the end of Goblet of Fire.</p>
<p>Harry meets the parents...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cunning Plan

Lucius Malfoy had a really cunning plan. Much more cunning than any cunning plan that had gone before. It was so cunning and so well laid, or so he reckoned, that there was no way it could possibly go agley. It was, he considered, as he relaxed in his study with a cigar and a glass of sherry, his best laid plan.

A ringing sound signalled the arrival of his guest of honour, and he stubbed out the butt of the cigar in an ashtray made from a human skull. From outside, he heard the skittering of tiny feet on marble as the house elves scurried to take up their positions.

Harry Potter was standing in the vast hallway, looking around at the chandeliers as Lucius, resplendent in original Kenneth Troll robes, descended the staircase.

"Good evening," he purred, striding across the floor to where the boy was standing. He held out his hand for Harry to shake, but he did not take it.

"Good evening, Mr Malfoy," Harry said.

Lucius smiled his most charming smile. "Please," he said. "Call me Lucius. Would you care for an aperitif before dinner? Perhaps a martini. Draco has told me how you like them."

"Shaken, with a little olive," Harry said. "Where is Draco tonight?"

Lucius beckoned Harry into one of the reception rooms, where a house elf was already standing, holding a martini in a little glass on a silver tray. Its hands were quivering and the tray was rattling.

"Do, please," Lucius said. "Take a seat. Have some peanuts. Draco will be through in a minute. He's just getting ready. He went swimming earlier. Do you swim, Harry Potter?"

"No, I never learned .. Lucius," Harry said, sinking into Narcissa's favourite velour armchair. He took a peanut. "And it's Harry. Just Harry."

"Very well," Lucius said. "Would you care to hear some music? I think I have some Demis Roussos somewhere. Do you like Demis Roussos, Harry?"

"I, don't really know him," Harry said.

"I adore Demis Roussos," Lucius said, opening a brushed mahogany cabinet to reveal a Muggle gramophone. One of the house elves approached Harry, holding what looked like a silver hedgehog on a plate. "And so does Narcissa. We shared our first kiss to this song. It was a balmy night in the summer of 1972, and the moon was riding high over the Dorset countryside ..."

"Would you care for a bit of cheese and pineapple on a little stick, Master Potter?"

Harry took one of the little bits of cheese and pineapple, and surveyed it with an air of great concentration. Lucius lowered the stylus onto the record, and started the music.

"Muggles are good for some things," he smiled, as he sat down. Another house elf hurried up to him with a large whisky. "Now, are you all right for nibbles, Harry?"

"Mfine, fanks," said Harry, whose mouth was full of cheese and pineapple.

"Would you care for a top up?"

Harry, who hadn't yet touched his martini, shook his head. "I'm absolutely fine, thank you Mr M ... Lucius."

"Lovely," Lucius said. He began to tap his toe to the melody. Harry sipped his martini, and then folded his hands in his lap. An awkward silence passed between them.

"I'm so glad," Lucius said, after about five minutes, "that you were able to join us, tonight, Harry. It is always such a momentous occasion when a son first introduces his father properly to his, er, live in companion."

"Oh," Harry said.

"Indeed," Lucius went on, draining his Scotch. "In honour of this momentous occasion, we're having ribs."

"Oh," Harry said again. "That'll be nice."

"Very," Lucius said. "I wonder where Draco could be. He takes so long to get ready, you'd think he was some sort of ..." he trailed off suddenly.

"I'm sure he'll be along directly," Harry said, sipping his martini again.

The door to the reception room clicked open, and both of them turned to see who it was, but it turned out to be Narcissa, who was wearing a pink gown with lots of frilly bits.

"Good evening, Harry, Lucy darling," she crooned. "I thought you were going to show our guest into the portrait room."

"I decided against it, my honeybun," Lucius said. "Harry, you have already made the acquaintance of my darling wife, no doubt?"

"We've met," said Harry, who thought that Narcissa's dress made her look like a drag queen but wasn't going to say anything. Since their last meeting, which had been six years previously, at the Quidditch World Cup, she had let herself go quite badly. Lucius, who was no oil painting himself, did not seem to have noticed.

"So nice to see you again, Harry," Narcissa purred, pouring herself a glass of sherry. "Would you care for a cheesy Wotsit?"

The house elves pressed in on Harry from two directions with cashews and bits of dried apricot in little bowls.

"I'm absolutely fine," Harry said. "I need to save room for dinner."

"Quite," Narcissa said. "I see Lucius has put Demis Roussos on. We adore Demis Roussos." She perched on the arm of Lucius' armchair and drained her sherry in a single gulp with all the delicacy of a tramp quaffing cheap cider on a park bench.

"I've never heard him before," Harry said. "I quite like Brahms, though. And Mozart's piano concertos."

Narcissa poured another glass of sherry. "How interesting," she said. "Have you seen Mozart in concert at all? We saw Demis Roussos in London, in 1978. It was a wedding gift from the Crabbes."

Lucius put his hand on her flabby wrist. "No, dear," he said. "I believe Mozart is dead."

"Er, yes," Harry said, reluctantly accepting more peanuts. "For quite some time, actually."

"Tell me, Harry," Narcissa went on. "Do you know of the Bay City Rollers?"

Before Harry could respond, the door to the reception room had opened again, and Draco entered. He was fixing his cufflinks onto his shirt. They were the gold Mont Blanc ones Harry had given him for his 20th birthday. He stopped short.

"By all the Gods, Father, please tell me you're not forcing poor Harry to listen to Demis fucking Roussos."

Narcissa patted her son on the arm. "Now, Draco dear. There's absolutely nothing wrong with Demis Roussos."

"No, I suppose not, for you," Draco said. He approached the armchair, and put his hand gently on Harry's. A shiver travelled down Harry's spine at the contact.

"How are you, darling?" he asked in a low whisper.

"I'm fine," Harry said. "It was a long flight."

"We won't have to stay here," Draco said. "We can leave right after dinner. I booked us a room at a B&B in the village. Poor Harry, is Papa being too awful?"

"You're very welcome to stay if you'd like," Narcissa chimed in. "We've plenty of room and I'm sure ..." she was cut off by Lucius.

"If Draco and Harry don't want to stay here, then that's fine," he said through gritted teeth.

"But darling ... I had the house elves make up a bed in the guest suite especially."

Lucius said something in a whisper that sounded to Harry's ears very much like, "Creaking bedsprings, dear, none of that hanky panky in this house."

Narcissa batted her eyelashes. "Quite, dear."

"SO!" Lucius boomed in a vain attempt to dispell the awkwardness that hung over the party like mist. "Who's for another aperitif before we eat? Harry?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Draco, dear .. boy .. surely you'd like a drink. Maybe a gin and tonic?"

"I think I'd like a double whisky, on the rocks, Papa," Draco said, sitting down next to Harry and sliding one hand behind his back.

"That's my boy!" Lucius boomed, as a house elf rushed forwards with the drink. "Something manly for my Draco!"

"I'll have another sherry, darling," Narcissa said.

"Then we can all retreat to the dining room and have a gay old time," Lucius said. He paled visibly. "Sorry."

At about eight fifteen, another house elf appeared at the door to usher them through to dinner. Harry and Draco, fingers entwined, followed Lucius and Narcissa into the Malfoys' vast dining room, where the banqueting table, which seated nearly 200 people according to Draco, had been set with candles and flowers and a sterling silver dinner service. Two crystal decanters of wine stood ready and waiting.

Lucius beckoned them to sit down. "Do, please, sit, gentlemen," he said, as he and Narcissa took their seats opposite. With a wave of Lucius' wand, the starters appeared before them.

"Prawn cocktail," Harry said. "Yum."

"How imaginative," said Draco, poking at the salad with his fork.

"Don't stand on ceremony," Lucius said. "Do, please, tuck in."

"Lucius tells me," Narcissa said, "that you're a wonderful golfer, Harry."

"I play, occasionally," Harry said.

There was a pause broken by the sound of cutlery scraping on the plates.

"Draco," Lucius said, "where did you get that suit?"

"Oh, all my suits are tailor made."

"How fascinating."

The prawn cocktail itself was perfectly adequate, and soon dispensed with. The small-talk flowed with no particular wit or sparkle. The Malfoys didn't entertain as much as they used to. As the house elves cleared away the dirty crockery, Harry tucked his napkin into his shirt in preparation for the ribs.

"An excellent idea, Harry," Lucius said. One of the elves wheeled in a vast platter on a hostess trolley, covered with a silver dome-shaped lid.

"Doesn't this smell good?" Narcissa clapped her hands together in delight.

Lucius levitated the platter onto the table and the flickering candles moved aside. "I guarantee you'll love our ribs, Harry," he said.

"I always have time for ribs," Harry joked, as Lucius lifted the lid on the platter.

"AHA!" a loud, harsh voice, like stone grating on stone, rang out. Lord Voldemort, who had been hiding underneath the silver cloche, sprang to his feet, wand pointed at Harry.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Draco began.

"Now, Harry Potter, you meet your doom!"

"Oh, for the love of the Gods," Draco moaned. He seized the silver lid, and before Voldemort could curse Harry to death, whacked him round the head with it. There was a sound like a grapefruit splitting, and Voldemort toppled sideways onto the table.

"Lucius!" Narcissa exclaimed. "What a way to treat our guest!"

"For fuck's sake, Father," Draco snapped, still wielding the lid. "Couldn't you come up with something better than that?"

"Well, I thought it was quite a good plan, as plans go."

"Lucius, you're an idiot," moaned Voldemort, who was face down in a big bowl of vegetables.

"You're bloody pathetic. Both of you!" Draco shouted. "Come on, Harry. We're leaving."

"Draco, I can explain, nobody's leaving until you've got an explanation ... I don't know how the Dark Lord got into the kitchens ... honestly ... I would never harm a hair of Harry's head ... I ... I know how much he means to you and ...." He grabbed the lid out of Draco's hands, and smacked Voldemort around the head again.

"You bastard! You utter bastard!" he yelled. "Who let you into this house? Who let you into my kitchens, and more importantly, where are the ribs?"

"Lucius, you will pay for this," Voldemort gurgled from among vegetables.

"Where are the ribs? The house elves spent ages slaving away in a hot kitchen to make us those lovely ribs and you, you, you've ruined my evening and embarrassed my guests." 

He smacked Voldemort a second time.

"I really am going to kill you, Lucius," Voldemort groaned.

Draco surveyed them both. "Pathetic. Really pathetic," he said. "Come along, Harry. I know a pub that does a perfectly acceptable steak, we may yet get there before they stop serving for the night. Goodbye, Father, Mother."

Narcissa watched them leave. The front door slammed, and minutes later, they heard the sound of Draco's car starting.

"I don't know why you persist with that stupid plan," she said, as Voldemort burbled incoherently amongst the potatoes. "It didn't work on Albus Dumbledore and why you thought it would work on Harry Potter is quite beyond me."

She seized Voldemort by his collar, and lifted his face out of the vegetables. "And as for you, you nitwit. Words fail me. No, they really do ..."

"Sorry Mrs Malfoy," Voldemort muttered. "Won'thappenagain."

"Darling ..."

"Oh shut up, Lucius. You're sleeping on the bloody sofa tonight."


End file.
